Amy Lake (16 page)

Eddie looked up as he left, and Colin saw something like understanding in her eyes. She was aware of his feelings for Mrs. Marwick and, to his surprise, she did not seem to object. But perhaps his sister deserved more credit on the matter. Edwina never had much use for the social canons of the
ton
; she obeyed them more often than not, but only to the degree it suited her, and because she disliked fuss of any kind. Her indifference to convention was the result, he knew, of a self-assurance so complete that it needed little support from exterior trappings. Lady Edwina had no doubts of her place in society.

Nor did he, as it happened.

He brought the Garrick coat; the evening was cold and even though the stable would provide some shelter he hoped to spend enough time alone with Mrs. Marwick that she would require the additional warmth. He saw the dim light of the oil lamp shining through the stable window, and followed it to his heart’s desire.

  * * * *

Fiona was clucking softly to the hens when she heard the faint creak of the stable door. Her first thought was that Maddie or Dee had decided to assist her in the mindless business of chicken-feeding, even though both had appeared to be engrossed in the game of loo. The doctor in particular was spending more time in Lady Edwina’s company than one might have expected. One might almost think—

You doctors
, Fiona remembered Eddie saying, and wondered if the lady’s opinion of that species had changed. The quiet of the stable remained unbroken; perhaps she had imagined the creaking door. She shrugged and turned her attention back to the chickens, trying to clear her mind of every stray thought.

“Mrs. Marwick.”

She turned to see Lord Ashdown standing there. Bunny nickered in welcome.

“Do you need something, your lordship?” Her voice sounded tired, and a bit forlorn, even to her. Mrs. Marwick straightened; she took a moment to break up a crust of old bread and take a long, calming breath. She managed a cool smile as she glanced back at the marquess. “I’m occupied for the moment, as you see,” she said, in a more matter-of-fact tone.

The hens were milling around, pecking and jostling for the best position underfoot.

“Can I assist you?”

“They are stupid creatures, I’m afraid,” she replied. “They know I have their food, and you’d only confuse them.”

“Ah.”

His lordship was astonishingly handsome in the dim light of the oil lamp, and her feelings for him had grown so strong that her heart ached at the thought that he would soon leave; still, and for nearly the first time since he’d been brought to Tern’s Rest, injured and unconscious, Fiona was not happy to see the marquess. Lady Edwina’s arrival, weeks ago now, had reminded her of the world that the marquess inhabited, which was not her world, and now Lady Eleanor had said—

Lady Susan has been waiting for ages.

They were delightful as individuals, all three of them, but they were members of the
haut ton
, and she was not, and that was a fact that should never have been forgotten. She had made a right cake of herself over Lord Ashdown. Perhaps no-one else knew it, but she did. And she was done with it.

“Fiona.”

She saw the warm look in his eyes, and Mrs. Marwick told herself that this time she would remain unmoved.

  * * * *

The Marquess of Carinbrooke was not a idiot with regards to women, except perhaps that all men are. He had not entertained the possibility—on his way south from Kirriemuir to Elswick Manor for Evelyn’s house party, all those weeks ago—that Lady Susan Daubney might reject an offer of marriage, and in this he was merely being realistic.

Neither did he entertain the possibility, now, that Fiona Marwick might do so.

That she would be grateful, yes, that she would be over the moon at the thought of becoming a wealthy marchioness, with her daughter poised to enter the highest reaches of society—again, yes. Of course. Colin was also a young man, and his thoughts had dwelled for several weeks now on Mrs. Marwick’s considerable personal charms, her lovely face and form, and his mind had strayed more than once to the night of their wedding. ’Twas acceptable, following a proposal of marriage, and particularly to a widow, to take certain minor liberties. The marquess—not to put too fine a point on the matter—could scarcely wait. And so he neglected to give attention to what he should have, which was the lady’s response in this matter. Instead, he blundered recklessly forward.

  * * * *

“Fiona.”

Lord Ashdown approached her quickly, and she noticed that only a small limp remained in his gait. The chickens were still gathered at her feet, pecking and quarrelling, and before Fiona could react, or say anything else, the marquess had taken her in his arms. He kissed her forehead and then her lips, passionately, before breaking off with a soft groan.

“I must have you,” he murmured into her ear.

These words were a extraordinarily unfortunate choice with which to begin, and the marquess could never think of them in later days without a frisson of shame. It had never occurred to Fiona, before this moment, that marriage to the Marquess of Carinbrooke was a real possibility; it did not occur to her now. She placed a rather different construction on Lord Ashdown’s words.

How dare he! She stiffened, and tried to push him away. “I beg your pardon!”

“Oh—oh, no,” he responded, with a chuckle. “I don’t mean—”

The laughter made it worse. “What
do
you mean, your lordship?” said Mrs. Marwick, in her frostiest tones.

  * * * *

To give Lord Ashdown credit due, he recognized his error. But in an attempt to rectify the matter, and to avoid calling any more attention to the physical desire which he was certainly feeling, he managed to choose the only other approach that could have been worse.

He backed away and gave Fiona a long, speaking look. “The marquisate owns no property along the seashore,” he said, in a voice that he intended as teasing, “and I thought that Tern’s Rest might make a wonderful addition.”

How rarely do others see us as we see ourselves. And how rarely do we understand where, with the best intentions, we can most hurt another human being. Lord Ashdown was alluding, lightheartedly as he supposed, to the practice in which a woman’s real property and other possessions became her husband’s upon marriage. Perhaps it was not the most poorly worded proposal of marriage in the long history of the marquesses of Carinbrooke, but ’twas near enough.

Mrs. Marwick backed away from Colin so quickly that she almost stumbled. She understood teasing well enough; under the circumstances it was hurtful beyond imagination.

“What?” she cried. “What are you saying?”

Fiona’s eyes betrayed her horror at his words, which was not the response that Lord Ashdown had anticipated. He felt the sting of pique.

“I am talking about marriage,” said the marquess, somewhat less warmly than he had intended.

  * * * *

Such was Mrs. Marwick’s confusion that her first thought was that he meant his marriage to Lady Susan, and that he planned to—

To what? To buy the cottage from Wilfred Thaxton, to make sport of her situation, to—

None of this made any sense, as she realized later. None of it fit with what she knew of Lord Ashdown’s temperament or character. But in the heat of the moment, and still on edge from that first whisper in her ear, Mrs. Marwick’s temper exploded.

“Tern’s Rest is my
home
. ’Tis not a pawn in whatever game you are playing!”

She wanted to leave the stable, immediately, but the cow had yet to be fed, and although Hobbs usually took care of Susannah—

’Tis
my
home. Mine.

  * * * *

Lord Ashdown was at sea. But he did understand one thing, which was Mrs. Marwick’s attachment to her cottage. He’d already planned to make Tern’s Rest over to Fiona absolutely, after the marriage, so that it could be passed down to Madelaine rather than one of their own children.

He said as much.

She stared at him. “After . . . after
what
marriage?”

The marquess smiled, feeling himself back on firmer ground. “Ours, of course.”

Mrs. Marwick seemed to freeze in place. “
Our
marriage.” ’Twas not a question. “And when is this fascinating event to take place? Before or after your engagement to Lady Susan?”

“I’m not—”

“And as I comprehend your words, Tern’s Rest is already yours to bestow as a
gift
?”

“Mrs. Marwick,” said the marquess, with a tone that veered dangerously near to the put-upon. “I’ve never met Lady Susan. I am not engaged. And you persist in misunderstanding me.”

  * * * *

This was the point at which all conversation should have stopped. The two parties should have gone their separate ways for an hour or two, until what had been said by each could have been absorbed by the other and emotions brought into check. The marquess was in love with Mrs. Marwick and wanted to marry her. Mrs. Marwick was equally in love with the marquess, and had marriage been presented to her under better circumstances she would have no doubt had as enthusiastic a response as he could have wished.

But she was worried about Wilfred Thaxton’s arrival, worried that Madelaine would grow up in lodgings, instead of living at Tern’s Rest where they belonged, and half-convinced that the marquess wanted to bed her then and there in the stables—that much was true, as it happened—after which he would leave for Elswick Manor and Lady Susan.

Whom he had never met. Was the man willing to marry just
anyone
?

Not to mention that the Lord Ashdown now viewed the cottage as nearly his own property, as it seemed. What would he say when he discovered that Tern’s Rest was not even hers? Perhaps this was one part of Fiona’s anger and confusion, perhaps she took Lord Ashdown at his word when he said that a seashore cottage would make a good addition to the marquisate—

Was that all he wanted? More land?

Fiona drew her shawl tightly around her shoulders, lifted her chin, and prepared to flee the stables. Then she stopped.

My home.

“Please go,” she said to the marquess, and turned to feed Susannah.

  * * * *

The Ashdowns left for Elswick Manor the next morning. The marquess had been warned weeks earlier, by Dee, that any offer of cash upon departure would be a serious insult to Mrs. Marwick, and he knew her well enough by now to have taken that advice to heart. He bent over her hand and murmured his thanks; Eddie added hers, sincerely if briefly, and Lady Eleanor was effusive enough for the three of them.

“Oh! You are the most generous heart there ever was!” she cried, and—to Mrs. Marwick’s surprise, although not, apparently, to her siblings—Ellie burst into tears. “I cannot thank you enough for your kindness to our dear brother!”

She embraced Fiona several times, and then Maddie, who had been strangely quiet the entire morning. There was nothing more to say, and after the kitchen was finally kitchen emptied of Eleanor’s luggage, the marquess and his sisters were on their way.

Fiona did not step outside to wave them off.

Chapter 28: Eddie and Ellie Have Words with the Marquess

The Ashdown sisters both sat in the coach that Ellie had hired; the marquess rode Bunny alongside. Edwina would much rather have accompanied her brother, riding Artemis, but Lady Eleanor declared that she had traveled in seclusion far too much already.

“I’ll be bored to tears.”

“Elswick Manor is no more than thirty miles distant.”

Eleanor made a face. “’Twill be most of the day, then. You can’t leave me alone for
hours
. Besides,” she added, “you must tell me all above that doctor of yours.”

Eddie looked at her sister sharply. “He’s certainly not my doctor,” she told Ellie.

“Fustian. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”

Lady Edwina sighed. She knew her sister. “Very well,” she told Eleanor, and Artemis was tied behind.

  * * * *

Fiona heard the carriage pull away from Tern’s Rest and listened as the sound of heavy wheels on gravel retreated into the distance. She told herself that she felt nothing but relief. She was sure that the Marquess of Carinbrooke and Lady Susan would suit extremely well, she wished them every happiness, and if she never heard the name ‘Colin Ashdown’ again ’twould be all the better. Whatever ridiculous nonsense had gotten into her head, she wanted no more of it.

But he said he was not engaged. He said he wanted to marry you.

Mrs. Marwick, however, was not satisfied with the marquess’s explanations. He’d never met the young woman, and yet he had planned to offer for her? She knew at least something of the conventions of the
haut ton
when it came to engagements and marriages. Their love affairs were conducted more like business dealings, and even the suggestion of an attachment was taken seriously from a gentlemen as high-ranked as the marquess. Still, it seemed to put his lordship’s idea of marriage in an rather poor light. She and Joseph had known each other from childhood and Fiona could not imagine entering into such an intimate relationship—sharing a bed!—with someone she had barely met.

  * * * *

The carriage had been underway for less than an hour and three-quarters when Lord Ashdown began to hear the sounds of loud expostulation coming from within, punctuated with an occasional burst of feminine laughter.

Colin closed his eyes and shook his head. He could make a guess as to the current topic of conversation, and it was one he preferred not to enter into. There were no secrets between these two sisters and he suspected that Eddie was now availing herself of the opportunity to explain to Eleanor the latest wrinkle in the Marquess of Carinbrooke’s love life.

Or, thought Colin gloomily, the lack of same.

Neither had said much when he informed them, on the previous evening, that they would be leaving the next day. Ellie had taken the plan in stride, as it was no more than what she had assumed they would do from the beginning. But Edwina’s glance had spoken volumes.

Colin. What have you done?